All I Need—

recently i'm having fun drawing skzoos

Operation Miroh

trigger warnings: none

written + edited by: 🥺

pairings: hwang hyunjin x oc

summary: A string of murders lead Detective Yang Nami down the winding streets of Seoul’s maze district, searching for the Vampire Slayer. But what happens when her digging leads her far closer to home than she could have ever thought? What happens when it’s someone she’s supposed to trust?

Prologue

There are lots of rules when it comes to vampires.

First, they must be invited into a house before they can enter. I'm not entirely sure why--they aren't usually portrayed as the most polite of people, not when they're plunging their fangs into your neck and sucking you dry. But it's a rule, and they have to abide by it.

Second, they must avoid certain things such as sunlight, garlic and anything remotely holy. Supposedly, it's because they're devil incarnates and anything too potent or bright or religious can harm them. I just think it's because they have weird allergies. Kind of like how I'm allergic to oranges, which is really inconvenient because they look like they taste good. It sucks.

Finally--not that it's the last rule, but it's the final most obvious one--they can only be killed by certain methods. Some of these include the use of silver, fire (they're insanely flammable), decapitation and a stake to the heart--the most famous and popularly used of them all.

All of this is purely hypothetical, of course. Just myths formulated by people with better things to do than tell stories of bloodsuckers and the threats they pose to us poor, helpless prey.

At least, that's what I thought.

I had read enough stories and watched enough movies to know the basic rules about vampires, but not enough to blindly believe my boss when he told me they're real.

"You're kidding, right?"

He's kidding. He has to be. Maybe he's crazy, or maybe this is a prank.

I searched Captain Park's face for signs of amusement or maybe some sort of twitch--a crack in his demeanor to tell me that he wasn't being serious. His face remained completely flat.

I glanced around the room for cameras, wondering if I was on some kind of prank show, or that one TV program What Would You Do?. It would have been a really shit prank, because I was definitely not buying it, but you never know. Maybe they'd run out of ideas. I might have been payed more for not falling for something so stupid.

The same security camera that had been in the office since I began working there blinked back at me, red light flashing. I'd seen security footage from it before--for a security camera at a literal police station, you'd think that it'd have better resolution. Apparently not.

Which meant it wasn't a prank show, at least not one that valued it's camera quality. Which meant my boss was crazy.

He stared at me silently, not bothering to answer my question. Yep, definitely crazy.

"I'm serious, Detective Yang." He did look serious. Since when did he start taking acting classes? I thought. I mean, I took drama for 3 years and even I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face after spilling that level of bullshit.

"So you're telling me," I said, picking at my finger nails, "That not only there's been a series of killings around this area, but that they're all down to Vampires."

"A Vampire. And yes, we don't know for sure, but that's what it looks like."

"And what evidence do you have that it's a-" I waved my hands around in the air, as if summoning some common sense for the man. "-An actual Vampire and not just, I don't know, a regular serial killer. Which would be so much easier to deal with."

He clasped his calloused hands together and leaned back in his chair. He had an air of distaste surrounding him as if I was the one who was speaking crazy, but maybe that was because he always looked like he'd just smelled something revolting. Wrinkled skin scrunched up unlike the smooth sheets of paper stacked on his desk; lips pursed as if he'd sucked on a lemon for four hours; small, black eyes squinted despite the large, square glasses balanced on his nose. He had a habit of looking down on people even though he was 5'6 at most. Most people would describe him as intimidating but, to be fair, most people hadn't been told by him that Vampires exist.

"I understand your disbelief." Yeah, no shit. "I, too, was skeptical at first. But the evidence I've been shown convinced me that this is no joke. I know you like to believe that we humans know everything about our world, but the truth is that we simply cannot. You're going to look into this case whether you believe it or not."

Fighting to ward off the compelling urge to sigh and tell him again how stupid this is, I nodded curtly. "So I just have to find this..." God, I can't believe this is actually happening. "...Vampire. And bring them in."

A failed attempt at a smile passed over his stern features. He must have thought he'd won. "Precisely. I'm glad you're picking up on this."

"Can I think about it over the weekend and get back to you?"

I definitely would not think about it and I definitely would get back to him--to tell him that I was absolutely not doing it.

But of course, the universe seemed to be against me all of a sudden. Or maybe it was just him. "No, you can not," he stated plainly. "I've given you this case and you must take it. It's that simple."

"But Sir, there are loads of other Detectives who can do this job. I'm sure there are more... believable cases you can give me," I argued, trying my hardest not to sound in control and totally not like I was pleading him.

He leaned forward and his chair whined under his weight. "You're right." Wait, really? "There are plenty of other Detectives who can do this job and do it far better than you can. However, I am asking you to do this, and like the fair and just man I am-" (I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at that one and, instead, just stared at the side of his desk). "-I will give you a choice: You do this case or you're out."

"Hold on," I began, gaze snapping up from the corner of his desk to those hard, black eyes, "I'm out as in... fired? For real?"

He nodded nonchalantly, not a word slipping past his thin lips. You have to be kidding me.

"That's ridiculous. This entire thing is ridiculous."

"I'm giving you a choice. Make it." He shrugged.

It wasn't really a choice, just the illusion of one. I'd worked under this man for two years by that point. He knew how much I loved that job and all that it meant to me. He knew how much I threw into it. He knew everything I'd given up to be there. And now I had to choose between discrediting my career with a Vampire hunt or losing it altogether. Options, options, options.

"You know what my answer is already."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk. "I do." He reached for a pencil with a sharpened, pointy edge and twirled it around his fingers. "But I want to hear it from you."

God, I hate this man. Trying to hide my seething rage, I gritted my teeth and swallowed. "I'll take the case."

He barely reacted, just continued to play with the pencil. That doesn't mean I didn't notice the triumphant, cocky glint in his eye, though. "You are more like me than you think, Nami."

I looked at him curiously. That couldn't possibly be true. The only similarity that we shared is both working there, and we didn't even do the same job. So yeah, apart from the massive age gap, gender difference and literally everything else about us, we were totally the same.

"How so?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer or not.

"We're both intelligent, dedicated, hard-working." And not the slightest bit modest, clearly. "And like me, you know your place in this world and you will stubbornly defend it." He dropped the pencil onto the desk and it landed with a muffled clatter, then rolled until it hit a framed photograph of him with who I could only assume were his wife and two children. It reminded me that there must have been some remnants of a kind, young man beneath his cold, commanding demeanor--in the worst way possible, though.

He reached over to pick up a file and flicked through it until he settled on a page. I watched as his eyes scanned the paper. Just as I thought he was about to provide me with some tangible evidence of the wild claims he'd made that meeting, he spoke; "You are dismissed."

I found myself glued to my seat, my limbs weighing me down like anchors. "That's it? Are you not giving me a file on this?"

He glanced up from what he was reading for a brief second before continuing. "I'll email the main pieces of evidence to you digitally. You will be given a file tomorrow morning, once all of the necessary data has been compiled."

I didn't reply. Was I supposed to leave just like that? This man had told me that he thought the serial killer rampaging our region was a Vampire and that he was willing to fire me if I didn't take the case, all in the span of 30 minutes. And I was supposed to just soak in all that information with barely an ounce of explanation or evidence? Apparently so.

Hesitantly, I stood from my chair. A searing pain shot through my back, reminding me that I'd been sitting in a wooden chair for the past half an hour.

Captain Park regarded me for a second as I crossed the room. Hand on the doorknob, I faltered, waiting for him to say something, and when he didn't, I left the room, shutting the door behind me as gently as possible--despite the desire to slam it in frustration.

It was almost dark by the time I got home. The cerulean blue sky was stained with bright white dots, and the streets were bathed in the orange, artificial glow of the streetlights. With flushed cheeks, a running nose and icy hands, I fumbled with my keys until my apartment door unlocked, making a mental note to take a scarf or gloves in to work the next day.

I had stayed later than usual that night, finishing off any write-ups and looking through evidence relevant to a few other cases. After the meeting, I hadn't seen the Captain around, but that was for the best. I might not have been able to control my instincts for much longer.

Warmth swept through my body as I stepped in to the living room. I discarded my satchel on the floor and shrugged off my coat, folding it over the back of the couch. It was unusually empty and unusually quiet. Just as I went to search the apartment, a voice sounded from behind me.

"You're home late."

I whirled around to see Soyeon, leaning against the threshold where the living room and kitchen met. Her blonde bob was pulled into a short ponytail, revealing her pointed chin and signature smirk.

"I texted you," I said.

She retrieved her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen, the blue light illuminating her face. "Oh, you did. Sorry, I didn't see. My phone is being weird at the moment."

"You gonna get it fixed?"

"Eventually."

I rounded the couch and plopped onto it, the cushions sinking beneath my weight. "Where's Jeongin?"

"In bed," she answered, following suit, "I think he has a cold."

"You should have told me, I would've brought some soup."

She waved her phone in the air as a reminder. "Again, dodgy phone. And it's alright, I got some anyway."

"Stupid school kids," I grumbled. I sighed and sunk further into the couch. Soyeon glanced over at me, concern gracing her features. "Bad day?"

I chuckled humourlessly. "Weird day."

"Not allowed to talk about it?"

I faced her and nodded. She repeated the action without a word of protest. It was different at first; Soyeon was always so eager to be involved in every part of my life, and when I told her that I couldn't disclose information about the cases I was working on for legal reasons, she got upset. But after a while, she understood that it was out of my control.

Instead, she extended an arm out to me. I shuffled closer and pressed myself into her side, inhaling her familiar scent of acrylic paint and chai tea.

"You must be tired," she mumbled.

I hummed in response, unable to muster up the energy to force words out. Her head leaned on mine, the way it always used to, except this time was an act of friendship rather than romance.

With every passing moment, my body grew weaker and my eyelids heavier, and after a while, I was unable to resist the tempting call of sleep.

seo changbin - fluffy scenario —

genre: pure, tooth-rotting fluff

warnings: none at all

relationships: changbin / male reader

author’s note: this was a request for @mrsunshine999. i strayed away from the original request a lil bit bc i wasn’t feeling too confident in my ability to actually write it, but i hope u like it bc i tried my best to stick to it (･_･;)

it was an icy november afternoon when changbin returned home from the studio, wrapped in a thick black scarf and winter coat. changbin had spent most of the day cooped up in the studio, writing and rewriting lyrics to various songs with chan - and was excited to come home to his boyfriend, y/n.

“hey, bin, can you help me make dinner?” y/n called out from the kitchen, the sound of clattering pots and pans ringing through the apartment.

“sure, babe. what are we making?”

“fettuccine alfredo, you up for it?”

changbin’s eyes widened in excitement. “you’re god damn right i’m up for it.”

admittedly, he was very tired and hoping to have a quiet evening with his lover, but y/n’s enthusiasm was so contagious he really couldn’t say no.

“i’ll handle the pasta since i’m making it from scratch, you’re in charge of the sauce which should be easy enough for a beginner like yourself.” y/n explained, turning to face changbin who was smiling at him absentmindedly.

“uh, y/n, i’m a sauce master. i ain’t a noob.”

“suuure, babe.” y/n scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“i am, i am! i swear, this will be the best alfredo sauce you’ve ever had.”

“you’ve never even made it before.”

“then you can teach me.” changbin smirked, pressing a brief, cocky kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

the couple soon got to work, whirring around the kitchen like mice, grabbing whatever they needed to make their dinner. y/n was busy at work, beating eggs into the small mound of flour, whereas changbin was sorta just looking around, his brain foggy with exhaustion.

“baaaabe?”

“yes changbin?”

“where’s the parmesan?”

“in the fridge, love. where it always is.”

changbin pulled the large block of cheese from the fridge and chopped off a small slice, popping it in his mouth. and then another. and another. and another. and he kept going until his cheeks were chubby like a baby squirrel. changbin is baby but whatever

“mmmm,” changbin hummed, his mouth full of parmesan. “cheeth.”

“can i have some?”

“of course,” he said, grating a generous flake of cheese and placing it in his lovers mouth, allowing his thumb to brush over y/n’s lips in a quiet moment of admiration.

y/n groaned in happiness. “i love this cheese so much, oh my gOD-“

changbin smiled, pouring the rest of the grated cheese into the hot pan.

“oh yeah? more than you love me?”

“of course not, although it’s very close.”

changbin fake groaned, pulling y/n into his arms. “i can’t believe my competition is a block of cheese.”

y/n pulled changbin even closer, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, their hands clasped together. it was as though their hands were meant to hold each other, like a lock and key - perfectly suited for one another.

“crap!” y/n called out, pulling away from their warm hug.

“what?”

“i forgot to buy broccoli. would you mind keeping an eye on the stove? i’m gonna head to the supermarket and see if they have any.”

“yeah, i can do that. be quick.”

“of course.” y/n pecked changbin’s cheek and jogged out of the house, approaching the mini-mart across the street in hopes of finding some produce.

little did he know the chaos that had occurred in the short period of time y/n was gone.

when y/n returned, small packet of broccoli in hand, changbin was frantically trying to clean up the mess he had created.

“babe... don’t enter the kitchen.” changbin called out from around the corner. “there was a very, very small accident.”

“really? i was gone for like, twenty minutes. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, but the sauce... i couldn’t save it... it’s gone...” he announced forlornly.

when y/n entered his eyes were met with the sight of creamy alfredo sauce splashed across the stove and kitchen walls, coating everything it touched in a cheesy film. it looked like a ghost got brutally murdered.

“changbin... what did you do?”

“it started bubbling really really hard and i panicked, so i took it off the stove and then it bubbled at me and i, uh, kinda got carried away and dropped it.”

unable to keep a straight face, y/n burst out into laughter.

“you aren’t mad?”

“of course i’m not mad, it was an accident. these things happen. though, i wish you were as good at cooking as you are everything else.” y/n grinned, taking changbin’s hand in his.

“what are we gonna have for dinner now? the pasta is soggy and the sauce is gone.”

“well, for starters, we’ll have to clean this up. but we can just order takeout.”

“what are you in the mood for?”

“i dunno, just not italian.”

hi guys!! one half of two-racha here. my name is eva, i’m one of the admins of the account. as hattie’s already mentioned, she and i share the account because we’re both really passionate about writing and love to write together. here is myyyyyy intro:

eva—

emoji: 🐝 (so u know who’s posting)

pronouns: she/her

age: 17

things that make me happy: reading, stray kids, tea + scones, being the sexiest person in the world, marvel movies, writing, nature, boobies (women 🏳️‍🌈) and feminism.

This is how I imagined that one scene from The Secret History 💀

I know it was meant to be sad and a little dramatic and make us feel bad for Richard

But to me, it was beyond funny

Like okay Richard you stubborn bitch go freeze your ass off no one is stopping you 🤷‍♀️

this account has been dead for ages but i am reviving it to say I GOT TICKETS TO SKZ IN HYDE PARK!!!!!! IM SEEING THE BOYS LESGOOOOOOOOO

sickeningly sweet

written by: 🥺

genre: little bit of angst, mostly fluff

warning(s): swearing, smoking/ vaping, mentions of alcohol

summary: skater!jisung is sickeningly sweet. he tastes it, too.

[1:26]

Clouds of steam swirl through the night air, obscured by streams of tangerine light from a nearby lamppost. It smells of something like candy-floss or bubblegum, though you can't tell which. There's not much difference between the two--they're both sickeningly sweet, causing you to scrunch your nose up at the smell. You really should be used to it by now, but for whatever reason, that's not the case.

"Don't listen to Jongmin. Half the time he's drunk, the other half he's high. Don't take anything he says seriously."

You chuckle humourlessly. "That's no different from you. I still take what you say seriously."

"Hey, I'm trying my best," Jisung exclaims in an accusatory tone. He lifts his hand and jabs his vape in your direction, "And I know for a fact that you don't take anything I say seriously."

"Well... Yeah, you're right."

You lean back on your hands. Cold concrete numbs your skin and you wince, but don't move away. Instead, you shiver and tug Jisung's leather jacket closer to your body.

"He's a dick. A massive one. I'll give him a piece of my mind next time I see him."

"You don't have to do that."

Jisung takes a long drag of his vape, holds it in for a few seconds then blows it out in a large puff. "I will. You call my best friend a-"

"Jisung."

"Right. Sorry," he says and clears his throat. "Say what he said, you deal with me."

You successfully suppress a laugh, but its not easy. You're grateful that Jisung is protective of you, but where he excels in toughness and trash-talk, he lacks in stature and physical capability.

"Thanks a lot, Sung."

"No problem."

You glance at Jisung. His skin glows and eyes sparkle in the warm, overhead light. A circle of light surrounds his messy, blonde hair like a halo, but you think he's the furthest from an angel that could ever be.

Jisung turns to you suddenly, those doe eyes gazing at you and you suddenly feel naked.

Vulnerable.

"You wanna see some tricks? I've been working on a few lately."

You simply nod. You watch Jisung grab his skateboard from where it lays at his feet and push himself off of the brick wall. With one swift movement he's skating down the ramp and up another. He stops at the peak, then jumps a little, twists around mid-air and skates back down.

He returns to you with a proud smile and, yeah, now you can see why he's so often mistaken for an angel--if you ignore the cuts littering his face, leather clinging to his skin and alcohol on his breath.

"Come on."

You stare at Jisung's outstretched hand and blink. "What?"

Jisung doesn't let you finish. Soon enough, you find yourself tumbling off the wall and into Jisung's arms. Your converse smack against the pavement and you almost crumple to the floor, but Jisung holds you up.

"Let me teach you."

"Jisung, I can't-"

But your words are of no use. Now clasping your hand, Jisung drags you to the flat section of the skatepark. He lets go to place his skateboard on the floor, then holds both hands out, palms facing up.

You make a face. "What do you want me to do?"

Jisung thrusts his hands in your direction. "Get on the skateboard. Hold my hands, you'll be alright."

"You won't let me fall?"

He draws a cross over his chest then extends his hands again. "Cross my heart."

You exhale a shaky breath; the puff of air forms clouds that eventually fade out, imitating Jisung's previous actions like an eager, younger sibling that can never quite live up to their older sibling's standard.

You step onto the skateboard. It rolls to the side a bit and you gasp in fear, but Jisung is quick to grab your elbows and, wow, you're a lot closer like this, so much so that you can smell the mint gum and candy-floss (or bubblegum) on his breath.

With a reassuring smile, Jisung begins to guide you, urging you to tilt your body to the side and reposition your feet. He pulls you gently to the left, directing you on when to place your foot down and the exact pressure to use when you push yourself forward.

"You're good at this," Jisung proclaims, but you can't tell if he's being truthful or not. "Ready for me to let go?"

"Oh god, please no."

Jisung chuckles and his fingers dig into your skin. "Alright then."

You expect Jisung to pull you along again, to repeat his previous instructions and praise you for doing the bare minimum once more. But when you look up, Jisung is frozen. His eyes sparkle like he's stored the galaxy in them, and you don't think you've ever seen Jisung like this, let alone so close. He's full to the brim with a strange sort of emotion that you can't entirely place but-

Oh.

You notice Jisung's eyes flicker down to your lips. Only for a brief second, but you see it all the same. You recognise the emotion now—it's impossible not to. You've seen Jisung kiss people before, have sat bitterly in the corner of a house party as Jisung made out with whatever guy or girl he could find, so you know that look: it's lust. Or, perhaps, love. You can't tell, only hope.

But you recognise want. Need. And maybe you really need this too.

"Can I kiss you?"

It'd be a big fat lie to say that Jisung isn't an abrupt person, so it's really no surprise that he's the one who makes the first move. But if anything, you expected Jisung to just kiss you without asking. Instead, he requests permission gently, and the lust is still discernible, but it's softer than you have ever seen it.

You nod wordlessly. Jisung doesn't move so, now desperate for Lord knows what, you say, "Kiss me."

You hate how needy you sound, but Jisung doesn't seem to notice. The air around you is so cold, but Jisung is warm. Cold lips against warm lips, cold skin against warm skin, cold breath against warm breath.

When Jisung slips his tongue into your mouth you can tell that, yeah, it's definitely candy-floss.

And it's sickeningly sweet, but that's alright. Because when Jisung finally pulls away and confesses that he loves you, you realise that, despite his tough image, he is sickeningly sweet too.

appreciate—

written by: 🥺

genre: fluff

warnings: none

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: on some occasions, love isn't a strong enough word

thank you to @ofrosesandteacups for requesting this!! (not this kinda becoming a metaphor for army and the energy we put into loving them?? idk i see it but tell me what you think)

it feels as though you've been here before, although you are entirely certain you haven't. miles away from home in a foreign country, surrounded by speakers of a language you have yet to master - and yet it feels more like home than america ever could.

"do you miss your family?"

you do. not seeing them for five years is bound to create that feeling, equal parts longing and forgetting. but that same longing compelled you to seek out a new family, one that seems more like your flesh and blood than those who actually are.

"sometimes," you settle on. "i see them most days."

"just through a screen, though."

"are you trying to make me cry or something?"

namjoon laughs; lower and more hushed than usual. there's no reason for it, and yet you can understand why - it just fits the atmosphere.

laying between the ground and the sky, - somewhere that is also nowhere - it isn't like anyone could hear you besides the stars and the trees, and they are loyal; nature never spills the secrets that are whispered between humans when they think they are alone. secrets are too precious like that, too easily shattered. nature knows better.

but he whispers anyway, "of course not. just asking."

you turn your head to study him. his skin glows in the moonlight, eyes shining like stars reflected in a dark pond. a rush of warmth floods over you and stirs a thought that enters your head frequently: this is where i'm meant to be.

"you're my family."

a smile stretches over namjoon's lips. it's quiet, soft, and you start to wonder if that's just him, rather than an unspoken rule formulated by the setting.

"i know."

he's used to this. you tell him it frequently, tell every one of the boys that you love them as much as you possibly can, because with their busy schedules and the pressure that comes with fame, it's easy to forget that you're loved - truly, unconditionally loved - sometimes, and you want to remind them of that.

maybe that's why he doesn't act surprised when an 'i love you' slips through your lips next. that's okay, you don't need him to react, just feel the weight of your words, how much you really mean it.

"i appreciate you," he says.

you're used to this. the other boys have no qualms about returning your love, some less than others, but again, that's okay. but with namjoon, he hasn't said it once. he shows it in other ways, sure, this particular phrase being one of his favourite methods.

it was okay at first. up until the point you realised your feelings for him extended past friendship, and at the same time realised that it would, inevitably, end in a broken heart on your part.

he must sense this, as he quickly follows it up with, "and i don't say that to put you down, by the way. i just think that appreciation can be a lot stronger than love, you know?"

"no, uh, i understand that."

he doesn't stop there. "no, really. i could tell you i love you, because i do, but it wouldn't be able to express what i really feel."

he turns and locks eyes with you. his gaze is soft, soft, soft, but at the same time it burns, like gentle, slow heat on a summers day. you can't help but look away, instead focusing on the space between you two, where your fingers idly pick at individual blades of grass.

"y/n?"

you hum in response.

"i mean it," he states, now switching to english. maybe that's why you feel the most comfortable with him - you can relax in his presence, not having to worry about honorifics and conjugating verbs. "i appreciate the way you never hesitate to speak your mind; the way you treat us like you treat everyone else; the way you're always there when we need you."

you bite your lip, the confidence you usually hold dissipating into the atmosphere to join the clouds that roll overhead. "thank you," is all you can think to say. it's true, though. he's never usually like this, and you're grateful that he's finally confirmed it, even if its only in part.

a gentle hand touches your chin, prompting you to look upwards. you can't escape the warmth of his eyes now, and it's almost suffocating.

"you put your all into us. we appreciate it, we really do. but please remember to look after yourself once in a while. please?"

you nod. apparently, it isn't enough. "promise me. promise me you'll appreciate yourself as much as you appreciate us, and as much as we appreciate you."

a sigh escapes your lips. the light breeze caresses your skin, but namjoon's blanketing warmth is enough to keep the cold from settling into your bones.

"i promise."

Hyunjin: You know what? I think I'm getting really good at taking constructive criticism.

Chan: Oh that's cool! So about your dancing earlier—

Hyunjin: *already crying* Go ahead,

A scenario with seo changbin please 🙏🏻 Prompt: Grocery Run.

Plot: Y/N (Male) is making a quick run to the grocery store in his pajamas because his sister and family want snacks & ice cream, but just as he’s about to grab the last of his sister’s favorite ice cream another hand grabs at it as well; then locks eyes with a beautiful stranger 😉

pleeaaase omfg i (🥺) have been wanting to write a changbin one for so long!! thank you for the request 💕💕